


michael may have been hard and sharp and mean, but he was their hard and sharp and mean

by WannabeMarySue



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Drabbles, Multi, credit to Yetiokay over on tumblr, michael from the streets!au, street!Michael, this au ruined my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WannabeMarySue/pseuds/WannabeMarySue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few drabbles inspired by yetiokay's street!Michael AU. More may be added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drugs and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles may or may not be linked. Hints of OT6. Slight favoring of Ryan and Michael because they're my babies.

Michael stills wakes up sometimes with cold sweat running in rivulets down his back, his eyes anxiously combing the room, guided only by the 3 am moon that shone through the window. If he was sleeping next to Ryan or Gavin, they’d wake up almost immediately, their worried eyes barely visible in the moonlight as they stared up at his shaking form.

Geoff and Jack would just shift closer to him in their sleep, cuddling him closer to their warm, safe bodies. Ray was always a light sleeper, and all of Michael's shifting and muttering woke Ray right up. He would shake Michael awake, quietly murmuring that he was okay, that he was safe in Texas with the rest of them, that nobody was going to get him, he was safe.

And Michael appreciated it, he really did. But no amount of cuddling or worried stares or words murmured in the dead of night were going to quell the nightmares that plagued him. They weren’t going to stop the flashes of blood and the ringing sound of shouts and gun shots in his ears.

No matter how many times he went to sleep in a warm, safe bed, it would never stop the nightmares of him waking, once again, on a cold park bench in some shitty New Jersey park.

The nightmares got worse with the withdrawal. It was their fault really. Michael was sure that there were plenty of places to get some quality drugs in Austin, but they had flat out forbade it. Geoff had been especially firm about it. The one time Michael had tried to sneak out and find a guy, Geoff had been disappointed. So fucking disappointed. Michael wasn’t sure he could handle another day of side ways glances and dissatisfied sighs from the guy, it had made him feel like literal shit. So, he quit cold-turkey.

And you can take it from him first hand, withdrawal is a bitch. It was fucking hard during the day. His hands would shake and it felt like if he didn’t get a fix soon he was going to vibrate right out of his own skin. But at night, it was downright terrifying. His usual nightmares were distorted. The blood that usually splashed his mind’s eye morphed into scenes of Gavin and Ray getting caught up with some of the guys he use to go with their mangled screams echoing in his ears.

Nobody slept for the few weeks he suffered through withdrawal. It hurt them to listen to Michael whimper and moan; he tossed and flailed all night, and some nights he didn’t sleep at all. They’d feel the bed dip and sway as he angrily flung his blankets off of him and stomped out of the bedroom. It was usually Ryan who would go after him and sit quietly on the couch trying to conceal his yawns as Michael paced relentlessly back in forth in the living room, trying to get a grip on the roiling, shaking beast that was rearing up inside him.

One day though, it all stopped. The nightmares, the withdrawal, the constant anxious shaking. No one mentioned it, but they were all glad Michael had finally acclimated himself to living there, to being safe and loved and warm with a roof over his head and no need for drugs to dull the constant pain of living on the streets.

 

 


	2. Of Cats and Cuddling

They all determined pretty quickly that Michael was basically a cat in a human’s body. Granted he was a hard, lean, untrusting street cat, but a cat just the same. It was Ryan who figured out the Michael loved it when he carded his fingers through his auburn hair just so, and Jack who realized that Michael’s favorite past time was fucking with people just for the hell of it. Geoff’s theory that Michael would like cuddling up in someones lap while they played video games was proved right one late night when neither of them could sleep. Just like a street cat though, Michael still had days when he had to go out and roam around and remind himself that he still knew how to hiss and fight and claw, because when you’ve lived your whole life sleeping outside with a knife clutched in your hand, there is nothing more terrifying than being domesticated.


	3. The Little Things

Michael had this tendency to get hung up on the little things. Like, one day, Gavin made a comment in passing about how adorable little Micoo looked in a beanie, and for the rest of the day, Geoff noticed Michael glancing at himself in any reflective surface he could find and curiously looking at his beanie as if the thought of him ever looking adorable was beyond his comprehension. Whenever Gavin mentioned it later, Michael flushed and glared at Gavin, snapping that he didn’t give two shits about how he look and that he in no way looked the least fucking bit adorable.

Personally, Geoff thought that flustered Michael was the cutest Michael.


	4. Bevs and Soda

While Michael was still getting through his withdrawal, they had banned him from drinking. None of them wanted Michael using alcohol as a crutch to get over his drug use. He would whine about it whenever they would all sit down to have bevs and play some video games and he was stuck drinking coke with Ray, but when he was finally able to drink again, he still found himself reaching for a coke can rather than a beer bottle


	5. Food or Lack Therof

Geoff was the one who cooked for everybody, so it made sense that Geoff was the one to notice that Michael was barely eating. Despite the heaping plates of food that he would make for the boy, Michael rarely would eat more than three bites.

Geoff confronted Michael one day about it at lunch, sitting down in front of Michael with a heavy we-need-to-fucking-talk-about-whatever-the-fuck-this-is-right-now sigh. Micahel immedietly cast his eyes downward, anxiously toying with his fork; he wasn't so great with confrontation that didn't involve throwing punches.

“Look, I’m just a little worried ok? Is my cooking not good enough? Do you not like the food?” Geoff attempted to make earnest eye contact, but all he got was was Michael's over-grown bangs.

“What?” Michael spluttered, “No! Your food is fucking amazing. It’s just--” Michael cut himself off, still not meeting Geoff’s eyes.

“Look, Michael, you’re always going to have enough food okay? We aren’t going to run out.”

“I know, I just, I just don’t want to get used to eating lots of delicious food to only have to go back to living on barely nothing every day, ya know?” Michael squeezed his eyes shut, unable to meet Geoff’s gaze.

Geoff reached over and stilled Michael’s anxious hand movements. “Hey, you are never going to have to go back to living on the streets again, I promise, do you hear me?”

Michael noded slightly, his eyes still shut. He lunged forward suddenly, hugging Geoff tightly. Geoff hugged him back, unable to speak, mostly because his mouth was squished rather uncomfortable into Michael's shoulder, but also he was a little choked up and dammit he never thought letting a kid from the street live with him would make him this emotional all the goddamn time.


End file.
